So I've come upon the realization that one of the best things about my old blogging was that I only blogged when I actually had interesting things to say or interesting stories to tell. Now that I have forced myself to write every single day, I am already finding myself stumbling into a bit of writer's block.
For instance, I have already written and deleted four potential paragraphs which could have gone right here. But none passed the test. My life is too boring for others to want to read about ("today on my commute I saw a truck pulled over by a state trooper!"), meaning that I suppose I will need to find other things to blog about which are not so related to me.
I suppose you might be wondering about the new hyperlink to get to my blog. Yes, I was told that using my name was "weird" and that I should change that ASAP. Thankfully blogger makes it easy to do so (thanks, Google)! Unfortunately, my first two choices: "fishsandwich" and "wassupwitdat" were both already taken--who could have guessed--so in a stroke of brilliance I decided to make like the Spice Girls and let "2 Become 1."
The above is all assuming that you have even noticed the change in my blog's hyperlink. I admit, this is a bit of a reach on my part, but bear with me because my adventures in name-changing did lead me to something which is actually hilarious.
So, I'm testing out possible hyperlinks to see what is taken. I come up with "fishsandwich"--the origins of which are tricky for me to explain in depth. I'm going to be lazy and just tell you that it's an inside joke, the roots of which stem from a friend's rap song to the beat of "Make It Nasty" combined with the classic Jay-Z/Kanye West song, "N****s in Paris." ANYWAY. I am testing this out, and realize that fishsandwich.blogspot.com is somehow already taken. WTF!!! I, of course, assume that whomever took this blogspot identity must be a genius. So, I go to check out their blog.
And. Well--hmm. You should probably just go check it out yourself: . Apparently, in his free time between helping NFL players into the endzone, God tells this woman to blog about her adventures in Cambodia. Oh, and blog about it she does. What a waste of a perfectly good blogspot name.
The "wassupwitdat" phrase heralds from SNL's funniest skit going right now, in which Kenan Thompson (more famously from the best Nickelodeon show ever Kenan & Kel) bursts out into hilarious song while celebrities pretend to be mad. If I were more tech savvy I might embed a video up in this bitch. Alas...
And now, time for a tangential mini-rant I just thought of!
Ahem.
Dear Jeopardy Players:
When the game has just begun, do not jump around the board looking for the Double Jeopardy. Especially do not do this if you only have $400 to your name. The best thing that can happen to you is betting and winning $1,000--raising your total to a whopping $1,400. However, if you bet and miss the question, you're suddenly $600 in the red. CONSIDER YOUR RISK AND POSSIBLE REWARD AND ACT ACCORDINGLY.
I understand many of you are "book smart," and therefore not always "street smart," but, really, Jeopardy strategy is child's play. Plus, it's just fucking annoying! I can't get into my category groove if you keep jumping from "Shakespeare's Heroines" to "Physics 101"!
One day, I will be on Jeopardy and show you all.
Aaaand with that, I'm out. I want to let you all know that I found a draft-blog from the good ol' days which was never posted. I'm going to finish and publish it! Oooooooh. So, pretty much I'm just like TuPac releasing music from the grave. Everybody get excited!
Still side-eyeing 2013,
Lauren
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Inaugural Post 2
Hi Mom and Suze (and other randoms who stumbled 'pon this),
It's 5 to midnight (EST cause thats what I'm workin' with) on Jan 2 so this totally counts as one of the 364 days. I figured I should probably commit myself to something in the new year and it might as well be revamping (if you can call restarting a blog that only had like 5 posts to begin with revamping) my old blog. Let's see if I can keep this up!! Enthusiasm at an all-time high right now.
I'm typing on my iPad so fortunately this won't be long.
Anyway my first thought for my first post of my 364 day blog challenge is that I am feeling very cynical about the year 2013. I have never been a suspicious person, but I am beginning to believe all the bad luck hype about the number 13. These first two days have been less than kind to me. Anybody else feeling this way or am I just going through a bad luck spell which randomly happened to fall on the first of the year?
Ugh. I hate typing on this thing.
Until tomorrow,
Lauren
It's 5 to midnight (EST cause thats what I'm workin' with) on Jan 2 so this totally counts as one of the 364 days. I figured I should probably commit myself to something in the new year and it might as well be revamping (if you can call restarting a blog that only had like 5 posts to begin with revamping) my old blog. Let's see if I can keep this up!! Enthusiasm at an all-time high right now.
I'm typing on my iPad so fortunately this won't be long.
Anyway my first thought for my first post of my 364 day blog challenge is that I am feeling very cynical about the year 2013. I have never been a suspicious person, but I am beginning to believe all the bad luck hype about the number 13. These first two days have been less than kind to me. Anybody else feeling this way or am I just going through a bad luck spell which randomly happened to fall on the first of the year?
Ugh. I hate typing on this thing.
Until tomorrow,
Lauren
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Thoughts on Rowing
The title of my post is shamelessly stolen from a bound--what even is it? A pamphlet? A guidebook? A novel? Anyway, it's about 10-20 typed-up pieces of paper that were bound together and given to my rowing team by our coach. "Thoughts on Rowing" by Mark Rothstein. Amazing stuff, as always.
Yesterday it was suggested that I write the mgoblue blog about rowing. Well, I am not sure if that will come to fruition or not, but I can still make it happen via my fancy non-mgoblue blog. Sure, probably 300 less people will see it here than if it were on the "Official" Michigan Rowing home page; nonetheless I am doing my duty as a 1-credit taking, English majoring rower to write an amazing blog about my amazing team.
Today we did a level one on the water. For those of you unfamiliar with our training plan (which, let's face it, will be very few of you because who really reads my blog other than my teammates--love you guys!), a level one is basically high intensity, all-out, hard-as-you-can-go bursts of speed. I love doing level ones on the water because they're challenging and fun, and most importantly they make us better. Today we did 5x750 meters, and I was supremely encouraged all around by this practice. We got our butts kicked by Ohio State last weekend, plain and simple. Losing can be a tough pill to swallow, but at the same time I think it provided us all with a necessary wake-up call. I don't think anybody thought we were just going to waltz into every race this season and come out a winner, but at the same time losing to OSU reaffirmed to EVERYBODY that complacency will get us nowhere. We need to come to practice every day and work really, really hard to get better. Some days (like today) will be harder than other days, but each day is a chance for us to gain speed, and we really need to take advantage of that.
Anyway, back to today's practice. Yes, I was supremely encouraged. The theme of this week has been making changes and getting uncomfortable on many different levels. For my boat, that means redefining full pressure AND be efficient while doing so. And yes, that means that the workouts are going to feel harder, but if your legs aren't burning at the end, you aren't doing it right! Meanwhile, the technical changes which are being demanded are not always going to feel "good", but they have to be made, and so we have to accept being uncomfortable until it becomes the new comfortable, and the old, "bad" rowing is the uncomfortable rowing. So essentially--discomfort and pain is key until it becomes the new standard. And then we push for more pain and discomfort.
While today's practice was by no means perfect, I think that we really embraced that theme. We got out of our comfort zone, rowed differently (hopefully better) and pulled harder. Every single person went out there and strived to make the changes demanded of them. At our team meeting on Saturday, Mark asked every single rower to come back on Monday and be 100% coachable. I know for a fact that this demand has been met.
This weekend we have a double-duel (dual?) against Clemson and UVA--two very competitive rowing programs to say the least. I'm pumped. These races will be a great measuring stick for us as we start out our spring season. In the last few years Clemson has come on as a real power in the ACC and cannot be overlooked. And UVA, well, what do I really have to say about UVA other than that they're the defending national champions. In my 3 and a half years on the Michigan rowing team, I have never once beat them. Came close a few times, but couldn't quite close the gap. One of my goals as a senior is to kick their ass--defending national champs or not.
Another theme of the week: nobody gives a shit what you did yesterday. Yeah, you could say I'm really embracing that one. ;)
Well, it's getting close to bedtime for me now. Until next time, beloved readers.
Row Blue,
Lauren
Yesterday it was suggested that I write the mgoblue blog about rowing. Well, I am not sure if that will come to fruition or not, but I can still make it happen via my fancy non-mgoblue blog. Sure, probably 300 less people will see it here than if it were on the "Official" Michigan Rowing home page; nonetheless I am doing my duty as a 1-credit taking, English majoring rower to write an amazing blog about my amazing team.
Today we did a level one on the water. For those of you unfamiliar with our training plan (which, let's face it, will be very few of you because who really reads my blog other than my teammates--love you guys!), a level one is basically high intensity, all-out, hard-as-you-can-go bursts of speed. I love doing level ones on the water because they're challenging and fun, and most importantly they make us better. Today we did 5x750 meters, and I was supremely encouraged all around by this practice. We got our butts kicked by Ohio State last weekend, plain and simple. Losing can be a tough pill to swallow, but at the same time I think it provided us all with a necessary wake-up call. I don't think anybody thought we were just going to waltz into every race this season and come out a winner, but at the same time losing to OSU reaffirmed to EVERYBODY that complacency will get us nowhere. We need to come to practice every day and work really, really hard to get better. Some days (like today) will be harder than other days, but each day is a chance for us to gain speed, and we really need to take advantage of that.
Anyway, back to today's practice. Yes, I was supremely encouraged. The theme of this week has been making changes and getting uncomfortable on many different levels. For my boat, that means redefining full pressure AND be efficient while doing so. And yes, that means that the workouts are going to feel harder, but if your legs aren't burning at the end, you aren't doing it right! Meanwhile, the technical changes which are being demanded are not always going to feel "good", but they have to be made, and so we have to accept being uncomfortable until it becomes the new comfortable, and the old, "bad" rowing is the uncomfortable rowing. So essentially--discomfort and pain is key until it becomes the new standard. And then we push for more pain and discomfort.
While today's practice was by no means perfect, I think that we really embraced that theme. We got out of our comfort zone, rowed differently (hopefully better) and pulled harder. Every single person went out there and strived to make the changes demanded of them. At our team meeting on Saturday, Mark asked every single rower to come back on Monday and be 100% coachable. I know for a fact that this demand has been met.
This weekend we have a double-duel (dual?) against Clemson and UVA--two very competitive rowing programs to say the least. I'm pumped. These races will be a great measuring stick for us as we start out our spring season. In the last few years Clemson has come on as a real power in the ACC and cannot be overlooked. And UVA, well, what do I really have to say about UVA other than that they're the defending national champions. In my 3 and a half years on the Michigan rowing team, I have never once beat them. Came close a few times, but couldn't quite close the gap. One of my goals as a senior is to kick their ass--defending national champs or not.
Another theme of the week: nobody gives a shit what you did yesterday. Yeah, you could say I'm really embracing that one. ;)
Well, it's getting close to bedtime for me now. Until next time, beloved readers.
Row Blue,
Lauren
Thursday, March 17, 2011
My Last 2k Prep Ever
It's St. Patrick's Day 2011 and many of my fellow students at the University of Michigan are out getting their Thursday night drank on right now. Meanwhile, I'm sitting in bed with my laptop, watching some March Madness basketball online (so far I'm 9/12 on my bracket picks with the Louisville being my biggest bracket-buster), and contemplating my last 2,000 meter ergometer test. That's right--by tomorrow at 5:00 I will have completed my last erg 2k ever.
Once it's all over, I'm sure I'll have mixed feelings about it. Sure, most of those feelings will be of euphoric relief because the test will have been finished, and I will never have to re-live that pain ever again. But maybe .1% of me will be a little sad because it will officially mean that a meaningful chapter in my life is coming to an end. These last four years I've been dreading, then taking, 2k erg tests alongside so many other hard-working women with whom I've experienced this journey. My last erg 2k will really resonate the message that I'm nearly done with this journey. And that does sadden me.
But mostly, I'll just be relieved--because 2ks really suck.
It's not just the test itself, it's also the 24 or so hours leading up to it. During the week I can usually avoid obsessing or stressing out about an upcoming erg test, but once I come to 2k-eve night my mind is a jumbled mess. I spend the entire night obsessing about my goal pace, about whether or not I will "die" at one of my least favorite points in the race (the 1300 to go and the 800 to go--I now take power 10s at both of these points in order to try and fight my fear), and basically about the immense, total pain I will be experiencing for a little over 7 minutes of my life.
I have learned to at least get something positive out of this obsession, and so I always visualize my 2ks the night before. This activity actually helps me, strangely enough. If I can visualize myself pulling those splits and executing my plan, I truly believe I can do it the next day. During the test I actually think "Just like how you visualized it now..." as weird as that may seem.
Still, during this 24-hour pre-2k period, all of these semi-suicidal thoughts creep into my mind. Like, I'll be crossing a street and think "What if I just threw myself in front of a slow-moving vehicle? Maybe just enough to sprain my wrist or something--at least then I wouldn't have to take this 2k!" or I'll be eating dinner and think "What if I got food poisoning from this? That would be awesome!" or I'll be doing my "row-out" on the erg that morning and think "What if I got a rib injury right now?" then I'll take a stroke and think "Maybe on this one..."
But really, it's not THAT bad; or at least, not bad enough to warrant such crazy thoughts. Honestly, sometimes I think the warm-up is the worst part. For one thing, our 2k warm-up is actually pretty taxing. It's about 20 minutes long and features what I (and many others) like to call "1k of death" (aka 2k pace + 7 for 1000 meters...pretty trivial in reality, pretty hard when you're doing it 500m into a warm-up). This 1k piece is great for mentally psyching yourself out, too. "Wait, that was really hard. And it was 7 seconds slower than what I have to pull my 2k! And it was HALF as long! I'M SO FUCKED!!!!" That only gets worse when you take the 10s and 15s later at 2k pace. "Wait...I have to do that same thing for 200 more strokes?! I AM GOING TO DIE." As if this warm-up wasn't bad enough on its own, the entire time I'm pulling it, 10 of my teammates are taking their actual tests. Meaning the erg room is filled with the continuous shouting of coaches and coxswains. This becomes absolutely unbearable when the rowers get into that infamous last 500 and the only thing I can hear is a mass of eardrum-bursting noise. As if I weren't nervous enough, the shouting is enough to make me want to die. During that warm-up, I get so nervous that I am literally shaking the entire time.
So when I hop on the test erg to finally take my 2k I almost feel relieved. A "let's just get this over with" type of feeling comes over me, and the adrenaline finally starts pumping. I check my drag, set the distance to 2000 meters (with 200m subintervals of course), slap my thigh muscles a few times as if to say "It's all up to you now", grab the erg handle, take a deep breath and--"Attention. Row!"
Looking forward to 5 PM tomorrow,
Lauren
Once it's all over, I'm sure I'll have mixed feelings about it. Sure, most of those feelings will be of euphoric relief because the test will have been finished, and I will never have to re-live that pain ever again. But maybe .1% of me will be a little sad because it will officially mean that a meaningful chapter in my life is coming to an end. These last four years I've been dreading, then taking, 2k erg tests alongside so many other hard-working women with whom I've experienced this journey. My last erg 2k will really resonate the message that I'm nearly done with this journey. And that does sadden me.
But mostly, I'll just be relieved--because 2ks really suck.
It's not just the test itself, it's also the 24 or so hours leading up to it. During the week I can usually avoid obsessing or stressing out about an upcoming erg test, but once I come to 2k-eve night my mind is a jumbled mess. I spend the entire night obsessing about my goal pace, about whether or not I will "die" at one of my least favorite points in the race (the 1300 to go and the 800 to go--I now take power 10s at both of these points in order to try and fight my fear), and basically about the immense, total pain I will be experiencing for a little over 7 minutes of my life.
I have learned to at least get something positive out of this obsession, and so I always visualize my 2ks the night before. This activity actually helps me, strangely enough. If I can visualize myself pulling those splits and executing my plan, I truly believe I can do it the next day. During the test I actually think "Just like how you visualized it now..." as weird as that may seem.
Still, during this 24-hour pre-2k period, all of these semi-suicidal thoughts creep into my mind. Like, I'll be crossing a street and think "What if I just threw myself in front of a slow-moving vehicle? Maybe just enough to sprain my wrist or something--at least then I wouldn't have to take this 2k!" or I'll be eating dinner and think "What if I got food poisoning from this? That would be awesome!" or I'll be doing my "row-out" on the erg that morning and think "What if I got a rib injury right now?" then I'll take a stroke and think "Maybe on this one..."
But really, it's not THAT bad; or at least, not bad enough to warrant such crazy thoughts. Honestly, sometimes I think the warm-up is the worst part. For one thing, our 2k warm-up is actually pretty taxing. It's about 20 minutes long and features what I (and many others) like to call "1k of death" (aka 2k pace + 7 for 1000 meters...pretty trivial in reality, pretty hard when you're doing it 500m into a warm-up). This 1k piece is great for mentally psyching yourself out, too. "Wait, that was really hard. And it was 7 seconds slower than what I have to pull my 2k! And it was HALF as long! I'M SO FUCKED!!!!" That only gets worse when you take the 10s and 15s later at 2k pace. "Wait...I have to do that same thing for 200 more strokes?! I AM GOING TO DIE." As if this warm-up wasn't bad enough on its own, the entire time I'm pulling it, 10 of my teammates are taking their actual tests. Meaning the erg room is filled with the continuous shouting of coaches and coxswains. This becomes absolutely unbearable when the rowers get into that infamous last 500 and the only thing I can hear is a mass of eardrum-bursting noise. As if I weren't nervous enough, the shouting is enough to make me want to die. During that warm-up, I get so nervous that I am literally shaking the entire time.
So when I hop on the test erg to finally take my 2k I almost feel relieved. A "let's just get this over with" type of feeling comes over me, and the adrenaline finally starts pumping. I check my drag, set the distance to 2000 meters (with 200m subintervals of course), slap my thigh muscles a few times as if to say "It's all up to you now", grab the erg handle, take a deep breath and--"Attention. Row!"
Looking forward to 5 PM tomorrow,
Lauren
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Rumblings on College Athletics
I'm going to start out this post with a disclaimer: this is a topic on which not everyone may agree with me. That's fine; differing opinions are what make the world go round (note: I accidentally typed "wrong" instead of "round" the first time around--a Freudian slip at it's finest). I'm also going to acknowledge that I can only speak for myself and my experiences as a college athlete when I make statements. So keep that all in mind when you read on.
One of the most popular topics in the world of sports media right now is the issue of college athletics, NCAA compliance, and the ideal of amateurism. As more and more programs, athletes, and coaches have come under the scrutiny of the NCAA (as well as the University they represent and the conference in which they compete), many questions have been raised wondering if the NCAA's rules on an athlete's amateur status are flawed and outdated. The question has been raised: should student-athletes be paid for their contributions?
The short answer, in my opinion, is no. The long answer, however, is much more complex than that and will be explained below.
One of the defenses brought forth in the name of Terrelle Pryor and the other Ohio State football players who sold their championship memorabilia to a tattoo parlor in Columbus was that they were doing so to help "feed their families" and "send money back home." And sure, if that was the whole and entirely honest story (which I highly suspect it is not), I might sympathize. Yet as I watch various talking heads on ESPN talk about how these players aren't allowed to get jobs and have no way to earn any money as a student-athlete, there is one thing I always want to scream out. We do, in a way, get extra money. Money which we could perceivably save and send back home if we so desired.
As an athlete on full scholarship for the first time this year, I have been able to observe all of the perks granted to somebody on a full athletic scholarship. A full athletic scholarship at the University of Michigan covers what is known as "cost of attendance," a number that the University re-estimates annually to discover just how much the average in-state or out-of-state student spends during their 9 months as a full-time student. Along with tuition, cost of attendance covers room and board (board meaning food, utility expenses, etc), books & supplies, and even personal/miscellaneous expenses. For an in-state upperclassman at Michigan (like myself), cost of attendance for a year is estimated to be upwards of $25,000. My tuition is paid for, and my books are covered, and everything else (room, board, miscellaneous) is covered by a check I receive every month which is ideally meant to pay for my rent, food, utilities, and miscellaneous expenses. Furthermore, the room & board money is based on what it costs to live in the dorms, which is traditionally more costly than what it costs to live off-campus.
Logically, then, if I can find somewhere to live which costs less than the dorms, and if I budget my grocery bill in a reasonable manner, that leaves more of my rent check to go towards that other category: miscellaneous expenses. And here is where I find issue with the explanation that Pryor & co. sold their stuff because they had no disposable income which could have gone towards helping their families, or themselves, or whatever their real motivation was for pawning their Big Ten Championship rings (as somebody who has dreamt about winning a Big Ten ring for four years, I can say that this is honestly one of the more disgusting things I've ever encountered). Perhaps, instead of attempting to take the easy way out by selling their jewelry, Pryor & co. simply could have better managed the scholarship money they received (and I am not sure if OSU's scholarship machinations are exactly the same as U-M's, I'm only making an assumption that it is at least somewhat similar and they too get money for rent, food and personal expenses). Student-athletes on a full scholarship shouldn't be broke because the university specifically budgets into their scholarship money for their own disposable income. Whether the student athlete considers that enough or not, it is still deceiving to make it seem as though Terrelle Pryor and his fellow athletes HAD to sell that stuff to put money in their pockets.
In addition to all of this, I think the tens or hundreds of thousands of dollars which go into any four-year scholarship at any university is a HUGE privilege. And, once an athletic career is over, the college degree (hopefully) earned there will go a long way into helping to ensure a financially secure future.
Still, I do believe that many of the NCAA's rules for amateurism are outdated and--brace yourself for this loaded word--unfair. College athletics have become a HUGE money-making industry; like professional sports they make money off of advertising, selling TV contracts, and vending merchandise. College athletics even have a leg-up on professional athletics in that they also have another huge source of revenue: boosters. Big-gift donors are very specific to college athletics thanks to the special bond many alumni feel with their undergraduate alma maters (this is usually less so with post-graduates). While professional sports do have their corporate friends and high-rollers in the season ticket holder group, boosters are decidedly collegiate-specific and they act almost like a collective, mostly-silent owner (with the Athletic Director functioning as a Commissioner) in that they help to fund things like stadium renovations, new practice centers, and multi-million dollar coaching contracts. In many ways, then, college and professional athletics are the same.
However, there is one huge difference, and that lies in the fact that while professional athletes are able to use their talents and popularity to their own advantage, college athletes are essentially marketed by the University and the sports media though gaining nothing of it for themselves. Is it fair that during Charles Woodson's career, the University and Nike could sell the #2 jersey (though not with his name on it) to tremendous profits--but he saw not one cent? Why, exactly, should it be a big deal if Carson Palmer's car salesman uncle had wanted to put him on a few billboards in the LA-area back in his USC days--and given him a couple hundred bucks in return? Why not let a big-time college basketball player go overseas and make a little cash in the off-season? And what would happen if the rules did change--would college athletics as we know them be any different? My guess to the last question is probably not.
College athletics is a multi-million dollar industry in today's world, and though I do not believe that athletes should be directly paid by their respective institutions (more so than they already are), I do believe that they should be entitled to a piece of the pie. This too should help to curb much of the shady activity which goes down in college athletics. Maybe if Terrelle Pryor had been allowed to sign an endorsement deal with Nike, he wouldn't have sold his Big Ten Championship ring.
But he does go to Ohio State, so who knows...
Just one in a myriad of opinions out there right now on the subject.
Best,
Lauren
One of the most popular topics in the world of sports media right now is the issue of college athletics, NCAA compliance, and the ideal of amateurism. As more and more programs, athletes, and coaches have come under the scrutiny of the NCAA (as well as the University they represent and the conference in which they compete), many questions have been raised wondering if the NCAA's rules on an athlete's amateur status are flawed and outdated. The question has been raised: should student-athletes be paid for their contributions?
The short answer, in my opinion, is no. The long answer, however, is much more complex than that and will be explained below.
One of the defenses brought forth in the name of Terrelle Pryor and the other Ohio State football players who sold their championship memorabilia to a tattoo parlor in Columbus was that they were doing so to help "feed their families" and "send money back home." And sure, if that was the whole and entirely honest story (which I highly suspect it is not), I might sympathize. Yet as I watch various talking heads on ESPN talk about how these players aren't allowed to get jobs and have no way to earn any money as a student-athlete, there is one thing I always want to scream out. We do, in a way, get extra money. Money which we could perceivably save and send back home if we so desired.
As an athlete on full scholarship for the first time this year, I have been able to observe all of the perks granted to somebody on a full athletic scholarship. A full athletic scholarship at the University of Michigan covers what is known as "cost of attendance," a number that the University re-estimates annually to discover just how much the average in-state or out-of-state student spends during their 9 months as a full-time student. Along with tuition, cost of attendance covers room and board (board meaning food, utility expenses, etc), books & supplies, and even personal/miscellaneous expenses. For an in-state upperclassman at Michigan (like myself), cost of attendance for a year is estimated to be upwards of $25,000. My tuition is paid for, and my books are covered, and everything else (room, board, miscellaneous) is covered by a check I receive every month which is ideally meant to pay for my rent, food, utilities, and miscellaneous expenses. Furthermore, the room & board money is based on what it costs to live in the dorms, which is traditionally more costly than what it costs to live off-campus.
Logically, then, if I can find somewhere to live which costs less than the dorms, and if I budget my grocery bill in a reasonable manner, that leaves more of my rent check to go towards that other category: miscellaneous expenses. And here is where I find issue with the explanation that Pryor & co. sold their stuff because they had no disposable income which could have gone towards helping their families, or themselves, or whatever their real motivation was for pawning their Big Ten Championship rings (as somebody who has dreamt about winning a Big Ten ring for four years, I can say that this is honestly one of the more disgusting things I've ever encountered). Perhaps, instead of attempting to take the easy way out by selling their jewelry, Pryor & co. simply could have better managed the scholarship money they received (and I am not sure if OSU's scholarship machinations are exactly the same as U-M's, I'm only making an assumption that it is at least somewhat similar and they too get money for rent, food and personal expenses). Student-athletes on a full scholarship shouldn't be broke because the university specifically budgets into their scholarship money for their own disposable income. Whether the student athlete considers that enough or not, it is still deceiving to make it seem as though Terrelle Pryor and his fellow athletes HAD to sell that stuff to put money in their pockets.
In addition to all of this, I think the tens or hundreds of thousands of dollars which go into any four-year scholarship at any university is a HUGE privilege. And, once an athletic career is over, the college degree (hopefully) earned there will go a long way into helping to ensure a financially secure future.
Still, I do believe that many of the NCAA's rules for amateurism are outdated and--brace yourself for this loaded word--unfair. College athletics have become a HUGE money-making industry; like professional sports they make money off of advertising, selling TV contracts, and vending merchandise. College athletics even have a leg-up on professional athletics in that they also have another huge source of revenue: boosters. Big-gift donors are very specific to college athletics thanks to the special bond many alumni feel with their undergraduate alma maters (this is usually less so with post-graduates). While professional sports do have their corporate friends and high-rollers in the season ticket holder group, boosters are decidedly collegiate-specific and they act almost like a collective, mostly-silent owner (with the Athletic Director functioning as a Commissioner) in that they help to fund things like stadium renovations, new practice centers, and multi-million dollar coaching contracts. In many ways, then, college and professional athletics are the same.
However, there is one huge difference, and that lies in the fact that while professional athletes are able to use their talents and popularity to their own advantage, college athletes are essentially marketed by the University and the sports media though gaining nothing of it for themselves. Is it fair that during Charles Woodson's career, the University and Nike could sell the #2 jersey (though not with his name on it) to tremendous profits--but he saw not one cent? Why, exactly, should it be a big deal if Carson Palmer's car salesman uncle had wanted to put him on a few billboards in the LA-area back in his USC days--and given him a couple hundred bucks in return? Why not let a big-time college basketball player go overseas and make a little cash in the off-season? And what would happen if the rules did change--would college athletics as we know them be any different? My guess to the last question is probably not.
College athletics is a multi-million dollar industry in today's world, and though I do not believe that athletes should be directly paid by their respective institutions (more so than they already are), I do believe that they should be entitled to a piece of the pie. This too should help to curb much of the shady activity which goes down in college athletics. Maybe if Terrelle Pryor had been allowed to sign an endorsement deal with Nike, he wouldn't have sold his Big Ten Championship ring.
But he does go to Ohio State, so who knows...
Just one in a myriad of opinions out there right now on the subject.
Best,
Lauren
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Well, this is embarrassing
Apparently I had "English" spelled incorrectly in my subheader this entire time.
That's the definition of irony right there.
Thank you Natalie--otherwise this little typo would still be up there, unknowingly shaming me.
Let's forget this ever happened.
Kisses,
Lauren
That's the definition of irony right there.
Thank you Natalie--otherwise this little typo would still be up there, unknowingly shaming me.
Let's forget this ever happened.
Kisses,
Lauren
All the crazy shit I did tonight, those will be the best memories
Hello all,
I hope everyone had a fabulous holiday season. Once finals were over and done with, my holiday was great. I got everything I could have possibly asked for and more for Christmas and had a wonderful birthday shopping with my mom! Even the Tampa trip was...less soul-numbing than usual. Woo!
There are many things that I should be doing right now which would probably trump writing this blog entry. Among them are finding a job, studying for the LSAT, emailing professors about recommendation letters, and mailing out my thank you cards from Christmas. These are all extremely important things, and I will definitely get around to all of them in the near future. The one thing that makes me most anxious is emailing professors about writing me a letter of rec. I suppose I'm just afraid that one of them will email me back and be like "no, sorry" and then I'm going to be a. screwed, and b. traumatized from the rejection. Does anybody else feel this way when asking for things like this? It's really kind of a paralyzing fear right now.
I realize that I've already broken my promise to update this blog frequently. I can't say I'm totally surprised; it's a lifelong trend for me. As a kid, whenever I would get a pretty new diary or journal, I would get really excited and write in it everyday for maybe a week or two. Then, it would slowly fall off. After that, my diary pages just became places for me to either mindlessly doodle or write down my superior medical diagnoses when I was playing doctor to my ill stuffed animals.
Now I'm actually pretty angry with myself for doing this because going through childhood diaries is actually the most entertaining thing ever. Yet, because I was lazy about writing them, I have so few entries to read.
The best thing about reading my old diary was realizing just how trivial my issues really were back in the day. Yet, back then, every single one of these issues seemed like a humungous obstacle fated to trip me up on my journey to happiness. I was such a melodramatic child; every minor incident was played up as the worst thing that ever could have possibly happened to me. For instance, one of my entires told of a day when I was playing on the jungle gym with my friends and when I went down the slide it made a weird squeaky noise and my friends laughed at me. I, of course, was absolutely devastated by this turn of events. THEY WERE LAUGHING. AT ME! MY LIFE IS OVER.
Another time, my friends and I were playing "Let's pretend we're married to The Hansons" at recess--kind of self-explanatory what occurred during this game. It was my turn to pick my Hanson last that day, and I ended up with, god forbid, ISAAC, who everybody knew was the "ugly, weird, and old" one (those adjectives were word-for-word how I described him in my diary). My favorite was Taylor because he was the sexiest, obviously, but one of my friends had picked him first. How was I supposed to pretend I was married to Isaac when I didn't even LOVE HIM?! It was a horrible day in my life.
I also had in the back of my diary a list in which I wrote down every boy that I liked and every girl that I considered a friend (ranking them in order of "bestness" of course). I swear, when you're a kid, there's nothing better than ranking people. It just keeps everything so orderly and black-and-white. Obviously, I prioritized my friends at the top of the list over those at the bottom because that's just the way the list works.
It's probably a good thing that I always hid my diaries well/nobody cared enough to ever really look through them because the fallout from that boys list getting out would have been probably the worst thing that could have ever happened to me as a small child. I was easily humiliated back then; every slight tease felt like a severe blow to my psyche. Combine this with my previously mentioned fear of rejection and you can see why I would have been horrified if any boy actually found out I liked them.
Unfortunately, one day, this exact thing happened, and it was the worst day of my childhood (aside, maybe, from the day I broke my arm or the day some douchebag ice skated over my fingers--but those are stories for another day). I actually still remember it in some detail, which probably speaks to how traumatizing it was for me. Let me take you back to the event.
To set the scene: I was in the first grade in Mrs. Doosenbury's class. I was a tall, lanky child with bangs and long brown hair. I was probably still wearing dresses and bows at that time because that's how my mom dressed me and I hadn't yet reached that rebellious "I CAN DRESS MYSELF!" stage where all you wear is hideous shit until you realize the principles of colors and the idea of matching a few years later.
Moving on! Essentially, what happened was that I liked some cutie named Joseph, but from what I can remember we were never really friendly or anything like that. In fact, I think he was kind of rude. But I shouldn't slander him on my blog. Anyway, so I liked him, probably only because he was cute. And somehow one of my "friends" found out about this during recess; I don't remember her name at this point. I made her PROMISE not to tell anybody, but she was a bottom-of-the-list friend so I didn't really trust her.
So of course, what does she do? Spread the fuckin' word like the little backstabbing 6 year-old bitch she was! I get back in my class from recess and as soon as I enter the room I hear the my classmates coming together in harmony to sing "Lauren loves Joseph!" in that humiliating and traumatizing way that only children can pull off. Of course I protested, "I DO NOT!" the entire time until I was red in the face.
Finally, my teacher came back in the room and settled everybody down, but it was too late. The damage was done. He knew, he definitely did NOT like me back after that little show, and I was sure I was going to die of shame.
I don't really remember what the fallout of that day was, but I'm fairly certain that in true ADD fashion, everybody was talking about "someone loves someone" else the next day and we all moved on. Well, except me. I remained traumatized about it. I'm sure my mother told me that "someday you'll look back on this and laugh!" (which I do now), and I probably responded with something like "NO I WON'T! I WILL BE SAD ABOUT THIS <dramatic pause> FOREVER!!!" as I sobbed hysterically. I'm glad she didn't laugh at me; looking back, I probably would have laughed at me if I were her.
Today, I'm glad I live life a little bit less melodramatically.
Happy 2011 everyone,
Lauren
I hope everyone had a fabulous holiday season. Once finals were over and done with, my holiday was great. I got everything I could have possibly asked for and more for Christmas and had a wonderful birthday shopping with my mom! Even the Tampa trip was...less soul-numbing than usual. Woo!
There are many things that I should be doing right now which would probably trump writing this blog entry. Among them are finding a job, studying for the LSAT, emailing professors about recommendation letters, and mailing out my thank you cards from Christmas. These are all extremely important things, and I will definitely get around to all of them in the near future. The one thing that makes me most anxious is emailing professors about writing me a letter of rec. I suppose I'm just afraid that one of them will email me back and be like "no, sorry" and then I'm going to be a. screwed, and b. traumatized from the rejection. Does anybody else feel this way when asking for things like this? It's really kind of a paralyzing fear right now.
I realize that I've already broken my promise to update this blog frequently. I can't say I'm totally surprised; it's a lifelong trend for me. As a kid, whenever I would get a pretty new diary or journal, I would get really excited and write in it everyday for maybe a week or two. Then, it would slowly fall off. After that, my diary pages just became places for me to either mindlessly doodle or write down my superior medical diagnoses when I was playing doctor to my ill stuffed animals.
Now I'm actually pretty angry with myself for doing this because going through childhood diaries is actually the most entertaining thing ever. Yet, because I was lazy about writing them, I have so few entries to read.
The best thing about reading my old diary was realizing just how trivial my issues really were back in the day. Yet, back then, every single one of these issues seemed like a humungous obstacle fated to trip me up on my journey to happiness. I was such a melodramatic child; every minor incident was played up as the worst thing that ever could have possibly happened to me. For instance, one of my entires told of a day when I was playing on the jungle gym with my friends and when I went down the slide it made a weird squeaky noise and my friends laughed at me. I, of course, was absolutely devastated by this turn of events. THEY WERE LAUGHING. AT ME! MY LIFE IS OVER.
Another time, my friends and I were playing "Let's pretend we're married to The Hansons" at recess--kind of self-explanatory what occurred during this game. It was my turn to pick my Hanson last that day, and I ended up with, god forbid, ISAAC, who everybody knew was the "ugly, weird, and old" one (those adjectives were word-for-word how I described him in my diary). My favorite was Taylor because he was the sexiest, obviously, but one of my friends had picked him first. How was I supposed to pretend I was married to Isaac when I didn't even LOVE HIM?! It was a horrible day in my life.
I also had in the back of my diary a list in which I wrote down every boy that I liked and every girl that I considered a friend (ranking them in order of "bestness" of course). I swear, when you're a kid, there's nothing better than ranking people. It just keeps everything so orderly and black-and-white. Obviously, I prioritized my friends at the top of the list over those at the bottom because that's just the way the list works.
It's probably a good thing that I always hid my diaries well/nobody cared enough to ever really look through them because the fallout from that boys list getting out would have been probably the worst thing that could have ever happened to me as a small child. I was easily humiliated back then; every slight tease felt like a severe blow to my psyche. Combine this with my previously mentioned fear of rejection and you can see why I would have been horrified if any boy actually found out I liked them.
Unfortunately, one day, this exact thing happened, and it was the worst day of my childhood (aside, maybe, from the day I broke my arm or the day some douchebag ice skated over my fingers--but those are stories for another day). I actually still remember it in some detail, which probably speaks to how traumatizing it was for me. Let me take you back to the event.
To set the scene: I was in the first grade in Mrs. Doosenbury's class. I was a tall, lanky child with bangs and long brown hair. I was probably still wearing dresses and bows at that time because that's how my mom dressed me and I hadn't yet reached that rebellious "I CAN DRESS MYSELF!" stage where all you wear is hideous shit until you realize the principles of colors and the idea of matching a few years later.
Moving on! Essentially, what happened was that I liked some cutie named Joseph, but from what I can remember we were never really friendly or anything like that. In fact, I think he was kind of rude. But I shouldn't slander him on my blog. Anyway, so I liked him, probably only because he was cute. And somehow one of my "friends" found out about this during recess; I don't remember her name at this point. I made her PROMISE not to tell anybody, but she was a bottom-of-the-list friend so I didn't really trust her.
So of course, what does she do? Spread the fuckin' word like the little backstabbing 6 year-old bitch she was! I get back in my class from recess and as soon as I enter the room I hear the my classmates coming together in harmony to sing "Lauren loves Joseph!" in that humiliating and traumatizing way that only children can pull off. Of course I protested, "I DO NOT!" the entire time until I was red in the face.
Finally, my teacher came back in the room and settled everybody down, but it was too late. The damage was done. He knew, he definitely did NOT like me back after that little show, and I was sure I was going to die of shame.
I don't really remember what the fallout of that day was, but I'm fairly certain that in true ADD fashion, everybody was talking about "someone loves someone" else the next day and we all moved on. Well, except me. I remained traumatized about it. I'm sure my mother told me that "someday you'll look back on this and laugh!" (which I do now), and I probably responded with something like "NO I WON'T! I WILL BE SAD ABOUT THIS <dramatic pause> FOREVER!!!" as I sobbed hysterically. I'm glad she didn't laugh at me; looking back, I probably would have laughed at me if I were her.
Today, I'm glad I live life a little bit less melodramatically.
Happy 2011 everyone,
Lauren
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